Tea
by tedtheturkey
Summary: Kurt really loved tea. He also loved the memories he had with the people he loved. No matter how much it might hurt to remember them.


**A/N: This is quite fluffily angst ridden and I have no idea where it came from. I made tea and opened my computer to write something because I felt in a write-y mood, and this was born. I hope you enjoy it!**

Tea

Kurt really loved tea. He had since he was very little and his mom had tea parties with him. They would decorate, dress up, his mother taking perfect care in straightening the table cloth, then leaning over to straighten his bowtie. They would bake cakes or cookies for the occasion, and sometimes, though not too often, they could convince Burt to join in. He would laugh adoringly at his wife and son, but eventually sneak away with a fond backwards glance to watch football. An affection for tea and parties alike was something that Kurt and Elizabeth Hummel shared and treasured.

When she died, he'd stopped drinking it, the memory of her seeping through with every sip he took. It became too much, and he'd just stopped.

When Kurt was younger, Burt used to try to have tea parties with him. He tried, but they both knew it wasn't the same, and that it hurt more than it helped. So, they both gave up and the tea pot that sat in the cupboard above the stove spent its days collecting dust.

Which might have been partially what fuelled his devotion to coffee. Not only that, but it was something that he and Blaine could share together. It was something small, seemingly inconsequential, but it had brought them together. Somehow, made them closer.

Oh, the wonder of a hot beverage.

Kurt smiled to himself as Blaine sat the mug of steaming liquid in front of him. He nodded in thanks as he wrapped his hands around the cup, looking fondly around the large, but somehow cozy kitchen of the Anderson home.

"I thought we'd try something different today, "Blaine started, "since our coffee fixation has turned from appreciative to full on obsession. I'm beginning to think you only like me because I happen to have an internal bookmarked map of every good coffee house in Westerville."

Kurt snorted.

"Ohio, more like." Blaine nodded, and winked at him, throwing a charming smile and chuckle into the mix. Kurt, bedazzled for a second, almost missed what he said next.

"Anyway, like I said, I thought we'd try something different. My Gran came over last weekend and brought up some really expensive, really extraordinary tea. I thought you might like it." Blaine smiled again. This time it seemed to hold fondness and affection, rather than hold the intent to charm the pants off of Kurt. (Not that he really thought that was Blaine's intention. He could hope, though, couldn't he?)

It was then that Kurt realized what he'd said and that in the warm mug before him sat hot steaming tea. His heart clenched just a little at the thought. He knew he was being utterly ridiculous. It was just tea for goodness sake.

Yet, it really wasn't. It held so much more meaning than the word itself described. It held the love of a mother for her son and the love of a son for his mother.

He swirled the spoon around in the cup a few times before he spoke. He wasn't sure what made him say it. He'd never told anyone before. Perhaps he'd been afraid they'd laugh? Actually, he felt sure they would.

Blaine wouldn't.

"My mother loved tea."

Blaine looked at him, just slightly put off. He wasn't surprised, he so rarely talked about his mother.

"Oh?" Blaine said. His voice was laced with hesitation and the slightest hint of worry.

"Yes. We used to have tea parties." He looked at the cup ruefully and then at Blaine. "We'd bake scones or cookies and we'd set up a table on the front patio. She would get out all of the fine china that I always longed to use. We'd set it up, everything just so, flowers in the right vase, tablecloth to match the tea set." Kurt laughed to himself, in spite of himself. "And my dad wonders why I'm gay."

Blaine looked like he was torn between laughing at the joke and hugging Kurt.

"What I remember most about those parties, though, is her. She always wore a beautiful sundress. It would dance and twirl at her knees. I remember thinking how I'd never seen anyone prettier." Kurt felt himself start to tear up, but he reigned himself in.

No. He wouldn't do this here. Not here, not now. Not ever.

Blaine noticed it though. He always did. Always would.

Blaine couldn't remember a time when Kurt had been more beautiful. So achingly, brokenly beautiful. All Blaine wanted to do was reach out and touch, to comfort, to sooth.

He pulled Kurt close, into his lap, wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, and squeezed.

"It's okay, you know. To feel sad about it. To cry if you want. I promise, I won't judge. I'll just sit here with you, just like this, and hold you."

When you feel sad, sometimes all it takes is for one person to show kindness, to reach out and touch your heart, for every bad feeling to come crashing to the surface, no matter how hard you've tried to keep it subdued.

Kurt let himself go in that moment. In a way he'd never done before. Not in front of his friends, not in front of Mercedes, not even in front of Burt. It was both terrifying and freeing at the same time.

He'll never forget it. Through the tears, he couldn't help smiling about it all. The wonderful feeling of being so achingly apart of someone that you let them see every nuance and curve of your whole self. No matter how broken or seemingly imperfect it might be.

Blaine just sat there, holding Kurt. He said nothing. He didn't need to. The love and support was evident in the strength with which he led Kurt, the tenderness he used to brush away Kurt's tears and smooth down his hair.

When Kurt had calmed himself somewhat, he looked up at Blaine with the intention of thanking him. He looked up to find that it wasn't necessary.

Blaine knew. He always did. Always would.

Instead, Kurt gently touched his lips to Blaine's. It wasn't a kiss, really. But, it spoke of so many things. Of need, of want, of gratitude and warmth. Of the life they once had, of the life they now shared. Of love.

Kurt pulled back, ever so slightly. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. (Thank Gaga he wasn't wearing anything very expensive today.) He smiled so brilliantly that Blaine was temporarily blinded.

"Alright," Kurt stated with conviction. "Where is your microwave? I'm heating up this damn tea."

Kurt was back and Blaine laughed.

"Next to the fridge, Babe. Here, let me do it."

"Nope. I can do this."

And he did.

And every cup of tea after that only served to remind him of love. Of the love of his mother, of the love of his father, of the love of Blaine Anderson. Most importantly, of the love he had for each and everyone one of them, and all of the memories they shared.


End file.
